


des canyons aux étoiles

by rories



Series: chroma aisthesis [4]
Category: Thor (Movies)
Genre: Domestic, F/M, Loki is an idiot, Unplanned Pregnancy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-10
Updated: 2018-07-10
Packaged: 2019-06-08 02:32:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,939
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15233406
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rories/pseuds/rories
Summary: Loki wonders if maybe he knew, deep down, before Sif had even showed him the results of the pregnancy test.  There’d been a subtle shift in her colors in the past few weeks, soft shades of yellow that intertwine with purple, a light green that gets stronger every day, a bright orange that radiates through Sif starting in her belly.written for sifkiweek2018. day one: young love





	des canyons aux étoiles

**Author's Note:**

> follows in the same universe as [audition colorae](https://archiveofourown.org/works/1096623), [syn aesthesis](https://archiveofourown.org/works/2823692), and [love isn't rapid heartbeats](https://archiveofourown.org/works/8971657). 
> 
> title is from the olivier messiaen score.

They always sleep as late as they can on Sundays. Sif’s schedule keeps her pretty routine during the week, but Loki’s schedule is always scattered. She never knows if she’ll come home to him sleeping on the ratty couch he keeps in his studio or tending quietly to the plethora of plants on the balcony or silently standing in front of a canvas, oblivious to her return. 

But Sundays are their days. They sleep as long as they can before Loki gets up and makes breakfast. It’s always the same, two cups of steaming coffee and a pile of burnt toast. They usually spend the morning in bed, Sif reading the news on her phone and Loki curling up against her hip, drawing symbols on the skin of her thighs as he dozes. In the afternoons, they make lunch and watch reruns of Food Network shows, wasting away the afternoon. 

Before dinner, they take a break from each other, not because they want to, but because even they know too much time together can be a mistake. So, Loki goes to his studio and Sif to the spare room they turned into a gym, and they spend some time to themselves. When Sif gets lonely, after beating on a punching bag for awhile and then taking a quick shower, she pads barefoot into Loki’s space, watching him for a moment, knowing he won’t realize she’s there until she makes a sound. 

Sunday dinner is a shared chore, Loki chopping vegetables and slicing bread and Sif, who’s always been the better cook, doing everything else. They eat quietly, with Sif doing most of the talking, about her day and her clients and Thor. Loki listens, watches her colors twist and turn and change colors with her moods. He nods when he needs to, and chimes in when she asks about his paintings. 

After dinner and dishes, they spend the night back in bed, watching television quietly until all that’s left is the late night shows. By then, Sif has started to doze off, softly snuffling into Loki’s chest as he slumps down into the bed covers. He presses a kiss onto the top of her head, perfectly content in their routine. It’s the same thing every week, and Loki wouldn’t have it any other way. 

*****

When Loki wakes up one Sunday morning, ready to start their routine, he’s surprised to find that Sif is up and out of bed already. It sets him on edge immediately, especially because the spot where Sif lays is cold already, meaning she’s been out of bed for awhile. 

The apartment is dark, the only light from the windows and a small sliver from the bathroom that grows bigger when he calls out her name. The feeling in the pit of his stomach worsens when Sif comes out moments later, a grim look on her face and something in her hand. Loki thinks she looks tired and perfect, hair wild and wearing one of his many paint stained shirts. She says his name softly, her voice purple and blue and gray, colors he doesn’t see often with her. It makes his heart ache. 

Loki is slow to rise from the bed, never taking his eyes from her as he approaches. She says his name again and it sounds like an apology as she opens her hand to show him what she’s holding. 

The feeling in the pit of Loki’s stomach turns to ice when he sees the test, his eyes traveling from Sif’s to the stick in her hand. His jaw clenches and he swallows hard, but he doesn’t say anything. Sif, who had seemed so small a moment ago, straightens her spine when he says nothing. 

The room is quiet for several long moments, just the two of them breathing, and Sif watches Loki’s fist clench and unclench. Time sees to slow and Loki can hear his heartbeat growing louder, roaring in his ears as he takes a step back. 

_Okay_ , he says and Sif squints her eyes at him. She’s tries to decipher his one word response, but he’s always been a mystery, even though he’s most open with her. Her heart skips when he takes another step back, his long, bare feet quiet on their bedroom rug. She wants to apologize, wants to tell him that things will be fine and they’ll get through this, but she honestly doesn’t know that. 

They’d discussed kids here and there throughout their relationship. While both of them had never been in a rush, had been content in their life together, Sif had never shied away from the thought of one day creating a little mix of the two of them. Loki has never been as comfortable talking about a possible future, but Sif has seen the small glimmer of hope sparkle in his eyes when it’s brought up. She knows that he hesitates because of his lineage, tries to reassure him that any child he brings up will have her strength and his wit. And while he’s never been adamant in his desire to not have children, Sif knows that this morning’s revelation is a shock. 

Still, when he takes another step back, away from her, her blood turns to ice. She says his name again, sharp in the silence as he turns and grabs a shirt and a pair of shoes from the floor. She says it again, desperation slipping in even as he slips out the door. She says it once more, angry this time, as he disappears out the door. The last sound in the room is the sound of the pregnancy test hitting the wall. 

*****

Sif tries to keep to their normal Sunday routine, but the reality TV doesn’t appeal without Loki’s snarky commentary. She spends more time than normal at her punching bag before stopping to question if it’s healthy for the being growing inside her. She makes dinner, but it’s a solemn affair and takes more time than normal. In the end, she barely chokes down the soup and bread she made. 

It’s quiet, too quiet, and the later it gets, the more the feelings of anger and worry and regret get stronger. Sif finds herself wandering into Loki’s studio. It’s getting dark, so his work is hard to see, but Sif has seen it now so many times, she knows exactly what each piece looks like. It’s not hard to find hers, the one he made for her so many years ago. She keeps telling him that he needs to put it in to one of his shows, but he refuses every time, saying it’s just for her. 

He keeps the canvas in a corner, off the floor and safe. And, Sif notices, as she stands in front of his most recent piece, apparently always where he can see it, no matter where he stands. A small flutter stirs in her belly, warmth spreading out as her gaze moves from the old canvas to the new.

Sif knows that Loki paints what he sees, the colors that people invoke within him spreading out on a canvas in swirls and patterns. The one in front of her now reminds her of the one he did for her years ago, but there’s more. It’s deeper and richer, bolder and more complete. It’s absolutely beautiful and Sif finds herself sinking to the floor, folding her legs beneath her as she stares up at the painting. 

*****

Loki wonders if maybe he knew, deep down, before Sif had even showed him the results of the pregnancy test. There’d been a subtle shift in her colors in the past few weeks, soft shades of yellow that intertwine with purple, a light green that gets stronger every day, a bright orange that radiates through Sif starting in her belly. 

Still, the shock had been so much that he’d had nothing to say. He’d winced at the changing hues as Sif had called out his name, but kept moving, grabbing shoes and walking out the door. 

He doesn’t remember leaving the apartment building or walking to the nearby park, but he finds himself at the edge of a duck pond, skin chilled in the late fall air. When he finally comes back to himself, he’s filled with instant regret for leaving her. He blanches at the thought of her back home and hopes he hasn’t completely ruined all of their lives. 

Because it’s not as if he doesn’t want a child, as shocking as the news is. He doesn’t have a list of baby names or ideas for nursery murals, but he’s not turned off by the idea of a child. Especially a child with Sif. 

A child that would no doubt have her eyes and his nose. A child who would be strong and smart. Maybe an artist like himself or someone with the heart to protect people like Sif. 

As the chill in the air grows deeper in his bones, Loki resolves to fix what he’s broken. He ignores the swirls of colors surrounding him and makes the long trek home. 

*****

When Loki finally makes it home, the lights are off in all the rooms but his studio. He’s quiet as he comes in and shuffles into the room where he finds Sif on the floor. The worry pierces his heart. 

He says her name quietly, a benediction in the silence that stretches between them. He wants her to tell him everything will be okay, but he also knows that she is looking for reassurance as well. 

Loki settles himself behind her when she doesn’t answer, gracefully pulling himself so all his limbs surround her. She still hasn’t said a word. 

He presses hard kisses into her shoulders, to the top of her spine, and lets his long fingers spread across her belly. There is nothing there, not yet, but now that he’s aware, he swears he can feel a small flutter when he presses against her. 

_I’m sorry_ he says into the quiet, pressing his forehead to the back of her neck. _I’m an idiot_ he continues. He’s asking for forgiveness, for guidance, for her. Sif doesn’t say anything for many long moments and the longer time stretches, the worse Loki feels. _Please_ he whispers, pulling her to him in a desperate attempt to get closer. 

Sif moves against him and his heart clenches in his chest until he realizes she’s only turning around. His hands rest at her waist, playing with the hem of what looks like his shirt, but her hands come up to his face. 

She cups his cheeks and tugs slightly, making him look up and in to her eyes. _Never_ she whispers, close enough that he can feel her breath on his face, _never do that again_. She’s fierce and beautiful and red and blue and yellow and purple in his vision and when he looks down he sees the green and orange that confirm what the test already had. She’s absolutely beautiful and he is a fool. 

_I promise_ he whispers back, eyes tracking her face before pressing a kiss to her lips, another apology that says more than words can. She pulls herself more into his lap, wraps her arms and legs around him as he holds her tighter against him. 

It’s late on a Sunday that has been off rhythm from start to finish, but Loki would rather die than be anywhere but right where he is, in his studio, at the base of a representation of his family, with the only person that matters in his world.

At least for the next nine months.


End file.
